


Fowl Play

by fairhearing



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 13:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairhearing/pseuds/fairhearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New life and new civilizations can sometimes be quite shocking.  For the Sulu/Chekov Christmas advent countdown, for the prompt "Seven Swans A-Swimming."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fowl Play

  


* * *

  


At first glance, the dignitaries from the Federation appeared to belong in a wildlife refuge somewhere -- all seven evolved from mammals, they were overgrown bipeds with little mushy button noses instead of beaks, and skinny naked arms in place of wings. But they were gracious and intelligent, and though comically awkward when they attempted to wade through the Pool of Reception to meet the Prime Minister (the Vulcan hybrid seemed to have never swum in his life), once they were given special chambers of arid earth floors and cloth bedding, they, similar to Cygnus III's own earthbound mammals, were far more graceful in movement, even beautiful.

The Cygnets hadn't planned on their Federation guests all needing terrestrial habitats, though, so only six chambers were ready by that evening. The Prime Minister was highly distressed at this, flapping his wings in a panic at his cabinet, but then the youngest two goldbreasted Terrans graciously volunteered to share a room together. The tension was broken, the meeting ended with happy honks (and friendly teeth-bearing from the Terrans), and everyone prepared for sleep.

"I feel good about this, R'Lankkk," said the Prime Minister to his wife as the two of them glided into their sleeping pool.

"And I as well. Membership seems within reach, don't you think?"

"Indeed," said the Prime Minister, smoothing a feather on her neck fondly. "But let's see if our guests are comfortable. Computer, please bring up video of Guest Chamber One through Guest Chamber Six, sequential, thirty seconds each."

The surface of the water shimmered, and the two Cygnets watched with interest as the surveillance video shifted from one room to the other in turn. The entire flock of Federation members looked to be ready for rest. The yellow-plumed leader was already fast asleep, bare-chested and lying on his stomach, honking charmingly with each breath. The Vulcan hybrid was sitting on the floor with his legs knotted together, his eyes closed in some kind of meditation, and the medical officer was grumbling as he fluffed up his cloth bedding. The Terran who had surprised them all by honking a passable greeting speech that afternoon was reading something on her PADD, chewing on one of her front paws, and the engineer, leaning up on one elbow, was watching some media on his own PADD that was making him roar intermittently in what seemed to be the Terran version of laughter.

The two goldbreasts, however...

"Computer, cease shufflethrough," said the Prime Minister with a frown. "Continuous video feed of Guest Chamber Six."

"What are they doing?" said his wife, staring down at the image in the pool.

The younger of the two was nestled in the older's lap, his arms wrapped around the older one's neck, his legs parted around his hips. It was hard to tell which body part belonged to who, the two of them were so close and tangled up, and they had shed their cloth coverings, too, so that their bare glossy skin seemed to glow in the soft light. The dark one kept moving his mouth all over his companion's body, especially on his face, and the younger one kept making strange, throaty sounds in reply that were impossible to interpret.

"He's not... eating him?" said the Prime Minister's wife with a nervous little laugh. There had been lurid stories about the bizarre rituals of aliens for centuries.

"No, no." The Prime Minister peered closer. The younger one was moving, he could see -- rising up from the dark one's lap by straightening his spine, then dropping back down slowly, making more noises each time he did so. When the dark one started making throaty sounds, too, tightening his grip, the younger one quickened his pace.

"Do you know, R'Lankkk -- I think they're dancing."

"Dancing!" The Cygnets all knew about dancing, that haunting and beautiful bipedal act, but it was extremely rare to see in the wild -- all the mammals on their own planet shied away whenever a Cygnet approached the shore.

The Prime Minister's wife drew closer. "Oh, how lovely!" she murmured.

The older Terran was moving now, too, rocking his lower half up and down, swiveling his hips as he bounced the younger one on his lap. They were talking to each other in little swishy sounds that the translator couldn't pick up, speaking into each other's hair, though soon the younger one's voice grew high and squeaking and the older one's turned growly. The sounds were rhythmic -- clearly part of the dance.

"We'll have to ask them about it tomorrow," said the Prime Minister's wife. "Perhaps they can --"

Her voice trailed off.

The dark Terran had shoved the young one onto his back in a sudden, violent movement, making him cry out. The two of them were still connected, however, between their legs, where they could see, through the older one's sharp short snapping thrusts, something pink and slick and...

The Prime Minister and his wife watched, frozen in mortification, as the younger Terran stiffened and let out a wail. The older one groaned and pumped a few last desperate thrusts into his companion's body before shuddering and collapsing wholly on top of him. The two of them lay like that, panting, their limbs intertwined, the younger one petting the older one's dark hair.

"Computer end video," the Prime Minister finally blurted, and the water shimmered again into blackness.

The Prime Minister and his wife remained in silence for a time, the gentle lapping of the pool's water the only sound to be heard.

"I don't think we should ask them about it tomorrow," said the Prime Minister's wife presently.  


  


* * *

  



End file.
